


Merlin Emrys and the Egg of Aithusa

by magzawagzalot



Series: Merlin Emrys and the Coming of the King [1]
Category: Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Gen, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Rivalry, Kid Fic, Magic, Mystery, Rivalry, School, Sort Of, Treasure Hunting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24483130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magzawagzalot/pseuds/magzawagzalot
Summary: Merlin has been dreaming of this moment for years, finally getting his Hogwarts acceptance letter. The school experience might be a but more than expected, though, as he begins to butt heads with fellow students and accidentaly stumbles upon the mysterious Egg of Aithusa, a powerful and ancient artifact that could do more harm than good in the wrong hands.Arthur isn't sure what he wants to do now that he's at Hogwarts. He and his sister are finally out from under the somewhat overbearing thumb of their father, and he's still unsure of his place. As friends and enemies are made, Arthur will find his place in the ever-changing world of Hogwarts, and unlock some of its ancient mysteries.Darkness is building around the Wizarding World, and the Egg of Aithusa holds a clue to what's coming. Will Merlin and his friends be ready to face the task?
Relationships: Freya & Gwen (Merlin), Gwen & Morgana (Merlin), Leon & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Leon & Gwaine & Elyan & Lancelot & Percival & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin) & Kay (Arthurian), Merlin & Mordred & Morgana (Merlin), Merlin & Mordred (Merlin), Merlin & Morgana (Merlin), Merlin & Will (Merlin), Mordred & Morgana (Merlin)
Series: Merlin Emrys and the Coming of the King [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768564
Comments: 17
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1 - Summer's End

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Merlin Emrys and the Legend of Excalibur](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21990979) by [one_more_page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_more_page/pseuds/one_more_page). 



“Merlin!” 

The boy inside the bedroom jolted awake. His black hair was sticking up from all angles, his normally clear blue eyes fluttering between sleep and consciousness. A second, slightly angrier bang on his door spurred him out of bed and he haphazardly pulled on a clean set of clothes from the washbasket still sitting at the foot of his bed. 

A spry tabby cat wound its way between his legs as he descended the stairs of the small house, purring as it brushed up against his left ankle. 

“Easy, Pwyll,” he told the cat. “You’ll get your breakfast soon.” 

Pwyll tilted his head, almost as if he understood Merlin’s words. Merlin, in turn, stared back at the cat, confused as to the animal’s intentions. 

“ _Merlin Dylan Emrys if you don’t get down here this instant-_ ” 

Continuing at a newly-realized brisk pace, Merlin made his way downstairs and into their home’s small kitchen, Pwyll following close behind. 

“Morning, Mum,”

He walked to the cupboard and grabbed the bag of cat food stored inside. Pwyll made a happy mewling sound at his feet as he filled the cat’s bowls with food and water respectively. 

“That cat was clawing at my door for two hours before you woke up,” Hunith told her son. Merlin chuckled. “Made an awful mess of the hallway carpet as well.” She continued frying the bacon that she had started a few minutes before, occasionally leaving to stir some eggs or look out the window for any sign of the morning post. 

“Isn’t Archimedes supposed to be here by now?” Merlin asked, taking a seat at their kitchen table and tucking into his eggs (but not before practically drowning them in ketchup). 

“I suppose so,” his mother answered, looking over at the old clock mounted on the wall. “It’s nearly seven, though I imagine the _Prophet_ won’t be here for another hour, you know how those journalists in London are…” 

They settled into a comfortable silence for several minutes before the owl’s familiar hoots could be heard from the window ledge. Archimedes landed on his perch on the windowsill with practiced grace before ruffling his feathers once again and straightening up into a stance that Merlin could only describe as the messenger bird’s effort to look more regal- although if owls did want to make themselves look more distinguished, Merlin had no way of knowing - he could not, in fact, talk to owls.

Hunith sprung from her seat, returning with the morning’s post in hand. 

Merlin snatched the letters from her grasp, skimming over each in search of a certain message. His eyes briefly passed over that morning’s headline for the _Daily Prophet_ \- _Wizengamot Extends Session - Extra Time Needed on Du Bois Sentencing Vote_ \- before realizing that no such message could be found. 

His heart thundered in his chest as he stared at the pile of mail in disbelief. Surely, there had been some sort of mistake…

“Merlin, dear, bring the rest of the dishes over here, will you?” 

The sound of his mother’s voice dragged him out of his thoughts. He pushed away the rickety table as he stood up in a vague attempt to get traction. Merlin had barely moved an inch before one of the glasses toppled off, rolling to what should have been its doom. 

But, just like that, the glass froze in midair. It stood there almost like a picture, or as if it was waiting patiently for someone to paint its portrait. 

Merlin stood at the other end of the table, arm outstretched. Though he could not see it, his eyes were blazing an unnatural golden color, quite different from the dreamy blue they had been mere seconds before. 

Hunith, having only heard the commotion, turned and gasped as she saw her son perform such a feat of wandless magic. This had happened more times in his youth, though she sought to hide those moments in order to keep any and all unwanted attention away from her son.

“Merlin!” 

The sound evidently startled the boy, as the glass came crashing down milliseconds later, shattering into thousands of tiny pieces as the glow faded from Merlin’s eyes. He flinched slightly as the crash resonated in his ears, acknowledging the incident with a quiet, “Sorry, Mum.” 

The kitchenware-at-fault reformed with a flick of Hunith’s wand, after which it floated into the sink to be cleaned. Hunith made her way over to her son, who was still trying- and failing- not to look ashamed in front of his mother. (That was very immature, and Merlin, being a way over eleven years old, was _not_ immature.)

“What’s wrong, Merlin?” Hunith bent down so that she and Merlin were talking at eye level. 

“I did it again. You keep telling me not to but it keeps happening anyway. I- I can’t control it.” 

“I know, _annwyl_ , but you must keep trying.” 

“Why?”

“Because,” she squeezed his shoulder slightly, rubbing it in an attempt to calm her son down. “You have been blessed with a wonderful gift, Merlin. You are more powerful than any other witch or wizard that I have ever met. But you must be careful with that power, for men-”

“Men fear what they cannot control, I know,” Merlin finished. He scratched the back of his head with a look of guilt in his eye. “I’ve heard this same speech a thousand times, Mum.” 

“Then you know how lucky you are, Merlin.” Hunith gave him a quick hug. She then straightened up, turning towards the enchanted dishrags to make sure the plates were clean and away. When she realized that Merlin hadn’t moved, she turned back towards him, a glint in her eye. “You can take a pumpkin pasty from the jar, Merlin, I’ve seen you eyeing them all week.” 

He opened his mouth in reply, a question forming on his lips. 

“Yes, you can take one for Will too.” 

That was all the confirmation he needed. 

~~***~~

Of all of the reasons Merlin imagined he'd be running away from the playground outside of St. Agnes Primary School (and, to be honest, there weren't many in the first place), he did _not_ expect this one.

Will and Merlin had started that day’s adventure by heading towards the small playground, pumpkin-flavored candies in hand. Though neither he nor Will had attended the school during their years of primary education, the playground that went along with St. Agnes’ campus was open to the public over the summer holidays, and there was really nothing else to do anyway. 

“Did you see this morning’s _Prophet_?” Will asked, licking the last remnants of orange sugar paste from his fingertips. 

Merlin shrugged. “Mum cares enough to read them. I just like the cartoons.”

“‘Parrently the Wizengamot’s extending their session into the school year.” 

“Why?”

It was Will’s turn to shrug. “Dunno. Da says it’s so they get an accurate vote on Du Bois, but the whole thing just seems weird to me.” 

“Doesn’t your da work at the Ministry?”

“And wha’ of it?’ 

Merlin kicked a rock as they continued down the street. “Nothing.” They continued on their way into town, passing by what few shops and inns there were. Mrs. Trevor waved a small good morning as they passed, unlocking the door to her ice cream parlor with practiced ease. 

“Mornin’, boys!” she called. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Trevor!” Will called, waving his arms in an over-the-top manner that suggested he was trying to get more ice cream out of the old woman by making nice with her. (They had tried this tactic many times; it never worked. Mrs. Trevor’s cats all liked Merlin, though.) 

The two continued on their way through town, talking idly as they went. No more than ten minutes had passed before they came upon the playground belonging to St. Agnes Primary. A number of children could be seen playing on the sunbaked terrain, running around slides and seesaws alike as the hours passed by without a care in the world. 

A number of older children were gathered around a particularly old and weathered oak tree, sitting in a circle and remarkably quiet for children of their age. Their ringleader, an eleven-year-old girl named Lizzie Finch, stood in the center, dramatically waving her hands about while explaining the convoluted plan that had no doubt been thought of no less than an hour before. 

Neither Merlin nor Will had been good friends with Lizzie Finch - another quality of a wizarding upbringing - though their encounters from the few times their worlds had collided were… memorable, to say the least. 

The pair continued to watch Finch’s schemes from behind a nearby bush. Merlin was slightly on edge, ducking down whenever he anticipated that Finch’s gaze would burn through the bush and expose them both. Will, on the other hand, was much more confident in his spying. More than once he elbowed Merlin in many different places as the black-haird boy tried to drag him down with him, shushing his friend as he winced in pain. 

“ _You think it’s gonna work this time?_ ” Will whispered. 

“ _Wouldn’t bet on it._ ” 

“ _Why not?_ ” 

“ _She’s getting too confident. Mr. Pryce noticed his azaleas missing._ ” 

Will snickered. “ _Pryce likes her too much. She’s been hanging around with his grandkids for years._ ” 

Merlin’s eyes widened in fear. “ _Get down!_ ” He ducked low behind the bush and flinched as Will’s elbow collided with his ribs for the third or fourth time. Finch’s back was turned when he peeked over the top again. 

“ _Done being paranoid yet?_ ” 

“ _Will! That hurt!_ ” 

Will said nothing. He simply winked, with a sort of mischief in his eye, and focused on Lizzie Finch and her band of followers. Around them were a number of tubs and baskets of varying sizes, filled to the brim with water balloons and whatever other weapons of mass disruption that Finch could get her hands on. 

Under Will’s stare, one of the baskets of balloons started creeping its way toward the bush of its own accord. Merlin, realizing what was going on, tried to distract his friend and stop the trail of wandless magic. 

“ _Will! They’re Muggles!_ ”

“ _And?_ ”

“ _You’re hopeless._ ” 

The basket had all but reached their leafy sanctuary when Finch turned around again, facing the bust which hid the two boys. It took all of Merlin’s courage not to duck behind it again and draw yet more attention to himself. 

Will, on the other hand, had secured the water balloons in a pile between them, and began piling up and readying for attack. “C’mon, Merlin!” he urged. “This’ll be hilarious.” 

Merlin finally resigned to throwing the balloons, concluding that, if anything, he at least had the chance to get back at Finch for the prank she had pulled last year at Christmas. 

“One,” Will counted, holding a blue balloon in his hand. 

“Two,” Merlin added. 

“Three!”

Both boys practically launched themselves over their barrier of bushes, launching water balloons as they went. Finch and her cronies screamed as they quickly became soaked. 

Merlin, contrary to his prior thoughts, was actually enjoying himself more than he believed he would’ve. It felt good to get revenge on Lizzie (he’d been finding glitter in his hair for _weeks_ after Christmas) and the water - now, of course, that the others had found their way to their own water balloon supplies - provided a nice relief from the hot, heavy summer air.

“Merlin, behind you!” 

He could feel the balloon break as it collided with his back, though the wetness that should have followed never came. Looking down, Merlin saw himself in one of the puddles that had formed from the fight.

His eyes. 

Oh, God. His eyes.

They were burning a bright liquid gold yet again, his uncontrollable magic keeping the water at bay.

 _Come on,_ he told himself. _Control it._

“Oi! Emrys!” Finch’s patronizing call sliced through his train of thought. 

Merlin took one last breath. To his relief, the golden anomaly faded from his eyes as quickly as it had come. Turning, he saw Lizzie, water balloon in hand, standing next to a much-more-frightened Will. The two locked eyes for a second, an unspoken message passing between them. 

Run. 

Both Merlin and Will broke out into sprints, the yelling of Lizzie Finch and her cronies being drowned out by the rush of the wind in his ears. 

The two dashed around the small playground, running under the monkey bars and over the slide as a barrage of water balloons landed around them. 

A number of younger children looked around in earnest, wondering why these two boys were running around and getting the rest of them wet. Merlin, out of the sheer goodness of his heart (or at least that’s what he was telling himself) vowed to apologize later. 

He kept running until he had reached the gate, looking around for Will as chaos reigned across the schoolyard. The brunet, however, was nowhere to be found.

“Merlin!” Will was standing on the other side of the road, absolutely soaked. Merlin forced himself not to snicker as he crossed the road, preferring to preserve their friendship as Finch no doubt planned her revenge. 

“Will?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s never do this again?” 

“Yeah.” 

~~***~~

Someone was hitting Arthur with a pillow. 

The _thump_ had been continuing for what felt like forever, but in reality was probably more like the past ten minutes. He took his chance and opened his eyes as the barrage ceased, seeing a dark brown ponytail bounce along as its wearer went to retrieve the pillow. 

“Whaddya want, ‘Gana?” 

Morgana hit him with the pillow for a final time as he fully woke up, laughing as he winced in pain. “Dad says get up.” 

Arthur shrugged, rising from his bed and looking out the window, where he could see the waves touch the cliffs on the edge of their property. “What time is it?”

“Ten thirty,” Morgana sighed, crossing her arms. “Your friends have been here for the past hour bothering me ‘cause _you_ weren’t up.” 

“Kay and Leon aren’t that bad. They like you!”

“They’re insufferable. And so are you.” Morgana gave him one last hit with the pillow before leaving. Though she couldn’t see her face as she left, Arthur guessed that her mission of familial abuse by cushion-cide had been a success. 

He took one last breath before changing out of his pajamas, savoring the silence that came with the sheer vastness of his family’s house, with everyone so separated and alone. There was something unique about the quiet that spread through the halls of Caer Tintagel, the ancient house sometimes more castle than home. Visitors often spoke of the legends that surrounded the house and the property, though his father would always put them down in no time. 

Sometimes Arthur wondered if Caer Tintagel really was the place where King Arthur was born. 

Other times, he really wished people would stop pointing out that his name was Arthur. 

_Yes, I know_ , he would reply. _It's my name._

He finished dressing quickly, and was about to leave when something came crashing through his bedroom door. 

Scratch that, _two_ somethings. 

No, two _someones_.

Leon and Kay, to be exact. 

The two boys had managed to run their way through the entirety of the manor house to find Arthur’s room, no doubt causing a fair amount of property damage in the process. 

“Arthur!” Leon greeted, standing up and greeting his friend in a hug. Kay followed shortly after. 

“I haven’t seen you guys in ages!” Arthur remarked after their hug had broken apart. “How was Spain?”

Kay shrugged. His family had gone to Spain for a majority of the summer, forcing Leon and Arthur to continue their tight schedule of pulling pranks and messing with Morgana without him. “Would’ve been a lot better if I knew how to speak Spanish.” 

“See any Spanish wizards?” Arthur asked. “My dad says there’s a bloke from Madrid who can make the best vomiting potion-” 

“ _Arthur Pendragon, you are so dead!_ ” 

When his sister’s voice rang out from across the house, Arthur knew he was in trouble. 

“What did you two _do_?” he demanded of his friends, to which the two boys only grinned. 

“Come and find out,” Leon offered, gesturing towards the door. 

Oh, he was _definitely_ dead. 

~~***~~

A letter was sitting on the kitchen table when Merlin got home. Not just any letter. The letter. 

He could see the flowing cursive script on the front, and the red wax seal with a large H. 

_To Mr. Merlin Emrys, 38 Bartholomew Drive, St. Carantoc, Wales._

His hands were shaking as he opened the letter. He could feel layer upon layer of parchment within the envelope, and was almost sure that the ink would start to smudge if he started crying (he was already close to tears, something he would later deny). 

Apprehensively, he opened it and began to read.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Emrys,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Merlin waited for a second to see if anyone was going to jump out from behind something and go _Surprise! It’s a joke! You’re a failure!_ But no punchline came. 

_It’s real. It’s really happening,_ he thought. 

“See?” The voice of his mother came from behind, “I told you, _annwyl_ , you just have to be patient.” 

Merlin couldn’t help but cry then, because his home and dream for so long was finally happening. All the while, the words on the page stared back at him: _You have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

~~***~~

Arthur couldn’t help but stifle a laugh as he and his sister stood in front of their mildly annoyed father, all while Morgana smelt vaguely of dungbombs. 

Uther Pendragon was not necessarily a strict man, though it was at times like these that Arthur really knew that he was testing his father’s ability to not throw both of his children out of the house. 

“Arthur,” their father questioned, a look somewhere between annoyance and exasperation dawning on his face. “Did you pour a bucket of dungbombs on your sister?”

“No.” 

“Yes.” 

He looked over at his sister, expecting Morgana to stick her tongue out at him. He was met only with a smug smile. 

“If you didn’t do it, then who did?” Uther asked, patience likely growing shorter by the second. 

“Leon and Kay,” Arthur explained, looking down at his feet. “I slept in and they were messing with Morgana before she thought to wake me up. But this is more Morgana’s fault for-” 

“It is _not_!” 

Arthur instinctively ducked before realizing that Morgana - luckily - did not have access to any projectiles. 

“Quiet, both of you.” Uther put his head in his hands, taking off his glasses to massage his temples. “Now, I don’t care who started what or why you smell like dungbombs, just take these and go to your rooms.” 

He handed them two letters with matching red wax seals. 

Both siblings’ petty thoughts were immediately forgotten as they read the words on the front, which were written in a scrawling, hand-written manner. 

Arthur read his immediately, feeling a sense of satisfaction well up inside of him. 

_To Mr. Arthur Pendragon, Caer Tintagel, Tintagel, England._

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Pendragon,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…_


	2. Chapter 2 - The Adventure Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts' future First Year class begins to receive their school letters. Merlin makes new friends and rivals in Diagon Alley. Arthur is annoyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my wonderful beta @Ziggy_Stardusts_Tardis for all the help you've given me!

There was a strange man sitting in Gwen’s living room. Not only that, but this man said he was a wizard. He also said that she was a wizard. (Technically, she was a witch and _Elyan_ was a wizard, but Gwen wasn’t one for concrete gender roles). 

“And you’re sure you’re not crazy?” Gwen’s father, Tom, said for the fifth time that morning. “This-this Pigfarts? It’s a real place?” 

“Hogwarts, yes,” the wizard replied. “I myself teach there.” 

“And how do we know you’re not some kind of cult trying to brainwash my kids?” 

The wizard chuckled. “That you must find out for yourself, Mr. Leodegrance.” 

Tom looked thoroughly confused as the wizard got up to take his leave, picking up the rather large hat he had discarded upon entering the family’s small apartment. 

“I look forward to the coming school year, Guinevere and Elyan. If you need help with anything at all, feel free to ask for me, Professor Kilgharrah.” On his way out, he handed a letter to each of them, with a wax seal on its front.

Gwen looked down at the letter apprehensively. 

_To Ms. Guinevere Leodegrance, Flat 18C, 1016 Acre Street, Liverpool, England._

~~***~~

He could hear his neighbours yelling from his bedroom window- great feat since their house was about five miles down the road. (Gwaine thought it would be a good time for them to start considering a divorce. Or marriage counseling, at least.) 

“Gwaine!” 

His mother’s impatient shout, caused by the fact he was still lying in bed,prompted Gwaine to sign wearily before reluctantly climbing bou of bed. He knew that he would be in trouble if he stayed in his room a moment longer. _Maybe she won’t turn me back into a human this time,_ he thought morbidly. One hour as a frog was more than enough- even now he was still craving flies.

“Coming, Mum!” he cried, practically jumping into a creased pair of jeans, and a hoodie that had been sitting on the floor for a week. 

Gwaine ran down the hall of their small house, only to find his mother standing in the kitchen, waving her wand about like she was trying to swat a particularly annoying fly. 

_Mmmm. Flies,_ his frog-brain went. 

_Shut it,_ his human brain replied. 

“Mornin’ Mum.”

“Good mornin’, dear,” his mother answered. “Let the cat in, will you?” 

Gwaine nodded, making his way to the back door. Their cat, Fionn, was clawing at the wood, leaving marks in its frame. He hissed as something flew overhead, trying in vain to grab it with his tiny feline arms. 

The family’s owl, Biddy, had arrived with the morning’s post. 

“C’mere Gwaine, you got a letter.” 

Gwaine let the cat in, closing the door behind him. When he made his way back to the kitchen, he saw his mother holding a single letter, written on what seemed to be an old piece of parchment. When she handed it to him, Gwaine excitedly read what was printed on the front. 

_To Mr. Gwaine Ragnall, 716 Borough Road, Killdoren, County Down, Northern Ireland._

  
~~***~~

Lancelot felt something cold on his face as he woke up. Not snow or ice- he knew perfectly well what both of those felt like. But it wasn’t until he heard a small giggle from the corner of his room that he realized what was going on. 

Oh, he was going to _kill_ Elaine. 

Gasping and sputtering against the water she was pouring over his face, Lance reached out, grabbing for anything he could reach. Elaine’s braid, her sleeve, a bat to beat her with - just something. Elaine screamed and giggled more as he tried to land a punch without leaving his bed (which was going as well as the time he’d persuaded her to jump off the roof because she thought she could fly- that is, to say, badly) 

“ _Arrêtez_! Both of you!” 

The voice of their mother came from down the hallway, cutting through the brawl in a way that suggested _If I hear of this again, you’ll be weeding the garden until you’re twenty-six!_ Elaine pouted while leaving his room, sending a stink eye his way before heading back to her own bedroom. 

Lance scowled, now equally awake and annoyed. He got up from his bed, wandering into the bathroom down the hall where he found a towel to dry off his face. As he was getting dressed, he heard Elaine’s voice as she shouted up the stairs.

“La-ance! You’ve got mail!” 

“Coming!” 

He shrugged on the nearest shirt and made his way down. 

The family’s boreal owl, Enide, was waiting for him when he came down, sitting on her perch with a single letter in her beak. She waited patiently for him to take it, nipping his finger affectionately when he did. Lance looked down at the letter excitedly, a smile spreading across his face as he saw its red wax seal and the address line on the front. 

_To Mr. Lancelot Du Lac, 6 Tannycourt Drive, Bristol, England._

  
~~***~~

“Cut that out, will you, Aggie?” 

Agresizia shifted in her chair, continuing to hit her pencil against the table as she thought. When Percival looked over, he saw that she was struggling with subtraction. 

“Thirty-four minus seventeen is seventeen,” he said, intent on being helpful. Aggie stuck her tongue out at him. 

“Don’t help your sister if she doesn’t want it, Percy,” their father sighed. With a wave of his wand, the two children’s chairs slid apart, brother and sister ending up at opposite ends of the small table. His wife, the children’s mother, barely spared them a glance as Percival and Agresizia once again exchanged glares

“But, Dad-” 

“No buts,” their mother chided. “Aggie, finish your dinner and _then_ your maths, dear. We don’t want any more pasta stains on your work, now do we?” 

Aggie nodded her head in agreement. She pushed herself out of her chair, taking her books with her and setting them down on the nearby coffee table. Percival’s attention returned to the table as his parents went back to their conversation about whatever vote had happened at the Ministry that day - something about a cover-up in the Department of Mysteries and whatever the hell was in there. Percival didn’t know that much and, to be totally honest, didn’t care that much either. 

Agresizia returned to the table, scooting her chair in once more and winding spaghetti around her fork, somehow creating more mess than before - a skill mastered by generations of pasta-eating 7 year olds.

A hoot from outside drew the attention of the whole family, drawing their gazes to a large tawny owl perched outside the apartment’s balcony. It held a single letter in its beak. 

Pellinor, the father, stood up, stretching as he sauntered over to the sliding door. He returned with the letter in hand, placing it in front of his son with a proud look on his face. Percival started down at the letter, at the scrawling script that swirled over the front. He read it in earnest. 

_To_ _Mr_. _Percival_ _Eliffer_ , _Flat_ _64D_ , _887_ _Darling_ _Road_ , _Liverpool_ , _England_. 

  
~~***~~

Morded was scanning that morning’s copy of _The Western Mail_ when a knock sounded at the door to their small apartment. Anna, his mother, sighed and got up, setting down her mug of coffee on their small table before going to the door. 

Mordred followed close behind, expecting Ms. Ellis from down the hall, who usually asked for him to catsit when she went to visit her grandchildren. When his mother opened the door, however, she found not Ms. Ellis, but a rather short man in a pointed hat and cape. 

“Good morning!” the man said. Mordred thought it was almost a squeak. “Would it be alright if I came in?” 

“Of course,” Anna said, sounding a bit taken aback. She beckoned the rather odd man inside. “Can we get you something? Tea? Coffee?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” 

The strange man then turned his eyes toward Morded, who was suddenly embarrassed to be standing in front of a stranger in his pyjamas. 

“And you must be young Mordred, yes?”

Mordred nodded. 

“Then I believe this is for you.” The man settled onto their small couch, laying his rather flamboyant hat on the cushion next to him. He handed Mordred a rather old looking letter. The paper seemed to be aged and brittle, and there was a large wax seal on one side, along with words in a scrawling cursive script. 

His mother returned, sitting across from the strange man. “Is there something you need, sir? Petrol? Money? We don’t have much, but we ca-” 

“I’m not a beggar, my dear,” the man replied. “I work at a school for rather talented children. And we believe that your Mordred would be a perfect fit for our institute...” 

_I'm gonna be an X-Man?_ Mordred thought excitedly, looking at the comic books that were scattered around the apartment. He looked down at the letter, trying to see if it mentioned any sort of school for mutants. 

_To Mr. Mordred Kentigern, Flat 3B, 58 Ffugiest Street, Cardiff, Wales._

~~***~~

Merlin had been to Diagon Alley before (who hadn’t) but there was a certain excitement in the air as he and his mother made the journey from Wales to London, one that he hadn’t felt in years past when visiting the shops. All around, he could see kids his age dragging parents from store to store, arms full of cauldrons, textbooks, telescopes, and everything in between. He noticed for the first time the starry looks of awe in their eyes, because he knew he felt the same way. He saw the way the younger children looked at him in shops, how they eyed his Hogwarts letter with blatantly obvious jealousy. 

“The queue’s too long at Flourish and Blotts’,” his mother observed, looking at the line outside the bookshop. “We can try Madam Malkin’s first, if you want.” 

“Sure,” Merlin shrugged, drawing his cloak up around his shoulders. 

“Did you say Madam Malkin’s?” 

Mother and son turned, seeing a rather overwhelmed looking man in his thirties with two children about Merlin’s age at his heels. Both of them - one girl and one boy - were holding Hogwarts letters in their hands, and neither of them were wearing cloaks or robes, or anything that would have marked them as wizards. 

“Yes,” Hunith said. “Do you need directions?”

The man nodded. “Yes. Thank you.” 

“My son and I are heading there now. Do you need any more help? You seem a bit…” 

“Exhausted?” Merlin suggested. 

Hunith nodded, looking towards the man’s two children. “I take it you’re not… from around here.” 

He gestured to the two children at his side. “Gwen and Elyan are starting at this school… this-” 

“Hogwarts?” Merlin guessed, excitedly looking between the two. 

The girl giggled. “Dad keeps calling it Pigfarts. So does Elyan.” 

“I do not!” Elyan interjected, glaring at his sister. 

Hunith chuckled, waving a beckoning arm at the man towards the robe shop. “I’m Hunith,” she said as they made their way down the road. 

“Tom,” the man introduced. “And my kids are Gwen and Elyan.” 

Gwen gave a tiny wave to Merlin after her father introduced her. 

“I’m Merlin,” Merlin supplied. 

“Like the warlock?” 

“Like the bird… I think.” 

“There’s a bird called Merlin?” 

Merlin looked up to the sky. “It’s a falcon. Like a kestrel… I think.” 

“Do wizards learn a lot about birds?” 

“No.” Merlin shook his head. “I don’t really know all that much about what we learn, exactly.” 

“It’s your first year too, then?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Merlin!” Hunith called, already halfway across the crowded square. “Keep up!” 

The young wizard and witch ran to keep up with their parents, dashing around older students, earning a number of annoyed looks and muffled curses in the process. 

Merlin could tell that Gwen liked Diagon Alley. He’d felt something similar the first time he’d stepped inside the magical hub, knowing that he didn’t have to hide as much anymore. He could see that same burden being lifted from Gwen’s shoulders, as she realized that the both of them no longer had any sort of magical secrets to keep. 

Now, that last part wasn’t exactly true, but Merlin did his best not to dwell on it. 

They continued down the street, following Hunith’s distant lead to Madam Malkin’s. 

There was already a fair amount of people inside when their admittedly bizarre looking party entered. Students, young and old were standing on raised platforms, being prodded and poked by magicked tape measures. Elyan looked quizzically at them, as if he doubted the magic that kept them in the air. 

“Do you need help, my dear?” 

Merlin almost jumped as he heard a voice from behind him. Turning, he saw a rather squat woman in bright purple robes, with rolls of fabric hovering just behind her. They moved to a rack at the flick of her wand, leaving Gwen and Elyan once again in awe of the magic around them. 

“We’re here for new school robes,” Hunith supplied, putting her hand protectively on Merlin’s back. Madam Malkin nodded, surveying the three children over the brim of her spectacles. “Hogwarts?” 

“Yes.” 

“Alright, then.” She waved her wand at three unused podiums, bringing the idle tape measures to life. 

Gwen led her brother over to one, and then took her place on his left. Merlin stood on her other side, holding his arms out expectantly. The magicked measuring tape went to work immediately, moving along his arms and torso to fit his robes. Elyan and Gwen soon followed suit with their own arms, looking fascinated as the tapes began their work. 

“Do things like this always happen?” Gwen asked, regarding the tape with a slight look of suspicion. 

“Yeah…” Merlin replied. “Is your dad not a wizard?” He knew the question was a bit blunt, but it had been on his mind since he’d met the odd family. 

“God, no. He’s a blacksmith by trade. Made our mum’s wedding ring himself.” 

“Oh.” He started straight ahead for a second, trying to think of the right words to say. “Then this all must be really different, yeah?”

“Totally.” Gwen smiled, looking like what Merlin could only describe as literal sunshine. 

They stood in silence for the next few minutes, letting the tape take their measurements. Merlin watched the people wander by on the streets outside, seeing a number of other Hogwarts students and their parents eye Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions with interest, before seeing the line that trailed all the way through the store and continued out, right up to the cafe. One group caught his eye, though. A boy and a girl, following dutifully behind their father in perfect silence. Merlin thought it was rather odd to be in Diagon Alley to purchase the items for one’s first year and not be bouncing all over the walls, proclaiming how amazing everything was. 

He briefly caught the boy’s eye as the small family continued down the street, but they disappeared into the crowd before Merlin could get a good look at him. 

“Did you see that?” 

“What?” Gwen looked over at him, confused. 

“There was someone outside. I think he was looking at me.” 

“Where?”

“He’s gone now,” Merlin sighed. He looked down at the robes that were being tailored to his body. “What house d’you want to be in?” 

“Hogwarts has houses?”

“Don’t Muggle schools have them?” 

“No, they do. I just never thought that wizard school would have them.” 

“‘Wizard school?’” Merlin questioned. “Not ‘Hogwarts?’” 

“Whatever,” Gwen laughed. 

Madam Malkin walked over as they continued to talk, robes of varying sizes appearing and disappearing at the flick of her wand. “Alright, dear. You’re all finished,” she told Gwen. “You’ll get a bag with your uniform and robes when your father goes to pay.” 

“Does your shop take Muggle money?” 

Malkin frowned for a moment. “Oh no, dear. You’ll have to go to Gringotts for that.” 

“Gringotts?” 

“It’s the bank,” Merlin explained. “Mum and I can show you after we’ve got our robes.” 

“Thanks!” Gwen smiled, pure happiness radiating from her face. In that moment, Merlin knew a long friendship had been formed. 

~~***~~

The line at Gringotts had been surprisingly short, allowing Tom to get enough money to pay for his children’s school things and treat them to an ice cream afterwards in no more than twenty minutes. Hunith and Merlin parted ways with Merlin’s new friend and her family after leaving the bank, electing to head towards Ollivander’s while Tom and his family went to Flourish and Blotts’. 

Merlin could feel another well of excitement build up within him as they made their way towards the wandmaker’s, as he wondered just what would happen when he chose his wand. 

The shop was surprisingly empty as the Emryses entered. Boxes upon boxes were stacked precariously against the walls,seemingly moments away from causing an avalanche. There were instruments scattered along the front counter, including what looked like a scale (presumably for weighing wands) and a till at the other end. 

Mr. Ollivander, however, was nowhere to be found. 

The bell rang behind them, and another family walked in. Turning, Merlin saw it was the same one he’d seen while in Madam Malkin’s - the silent boy and girl, and their father. 

This time,however, the boy and girl were anything but quiet. 

“ _Morgana_ ,” the boy told his sister, waving a hand in front of his nose. “You still smell like dungbombs.” 

Morgana sighed, turning towards their father and muttering something along the lines of “ _You_ smell like dungbombs.” 

“Arthur,” the father warned, looking towards his son. It was the tone that parents used in public, where they couldn’t tell off their kids because there were other families around. 

Merlin looked at Arthur skeptically, trying to figure him out. He didn’t look outwardly scared of his father, though Merlin was suspicious that their relationship was more strained than his relationship with his own mother. Arthur glared back at him, obviously restraining himself from punching Merlin in front of both their parents and quite possibly half of wizarding Britain. 

Not wanting to get punched, Merlin turned towards the sister, Morgana. She was scouring the shelves of wands, though never taking out a box or looking inside. He didn’t realize it until he got up close, but she was holding herself back from crying. 

“You don’t smell like dungbombs,” he told her. 

Morgana jumped, looking a bit frightened at Merlin’s sudden appearance beside her. “Thanks.” 

“I’m Merlin.” He offered her a hand.

“Morgana,” she said, shaking it. “Morgana Pendragon.” 

_No way…_ he thought, looking back between Morgana and her family. _That’s not…_

His mother had made quite clear her views on the Ministry’s rising star, Uther Pendragon. On and on she went almost every time there was an article in the Prophet, talking about how is conservative views would ruin the reputation of Magical Britain, and that MACUSA would break ties with the Ministry if Pendragon was elected Minister. Merlin was starting to hate the man himself. He looked between Morgana and her father with an awestruck look, as if he’d met one of the Weird Sisters. (He hadn’t. That’d be way cooler.) 

Morgana laughed, letting go of his hand before Arthur got suspicious. “Yeah. I get that face a lot.” 

“Sorry.” Merlin looked away, slightly embarrassed. (Did this usually happen when he talked to girls? When was the last time he’d talked to a girl anyway?) 

“Don’t be,” Morgana laughed. Her laugh was different from Gwen’s. It was more hearty, coming from deeper within. Merlin doubted that Morgana had had the chance to really laugh in a while, and everything was coming up now, the first time she’d found something funny in a long time. 

Oh. Gwen. Like ten minutes ago. That was the last time he’d talked to a girl. 

Then why did this feel so different? 

Something crashed at the back of the bookshop. Merlin turned to see a rather old man come into the main room, boxes of wands in his frail-looking arms. He had a strange air about him, as if he were familiar with all the oddities of the world. 

The man set down the boxes, looking to those assembled within his store. “Ah. Customers!” He looked towards Hunith. “Welcome, my dear. Are you in need of a new wand?” 

“No, not for me,” Hunith told him, gaze moving toward her son. “I’m here for my son, Merlin.” 

Ollivander peered over his glasses, looking at Merlin, and then back to Hunith. “You are Hunith Emrys, yes?” 

She nodded. 

“I knew your wand looked familiar, my dear. Could I see it?” 

Hunith, albeit reluctantly, handed him her wand. He began to examine it, even testing it on the golden scales. 

“Pear and unicorn hair. Nine and a half inches. In excellent condition, I must say.” He handed Hunith back her wand, which she graciously took. 

“Now then, about your son. Marvin, is it?” 

Merlin gulped, feeling embarrassed. “It’s Merlin, sir.” 

Ollivander chuckled. “Must have been quite the powerful baby to earn that name, boy. Come here.”

Merlin obliged, trying not to fidget. Ollivander drew a tape measure - not unlike the ones at Madam Malkin’s - from one of his pockets, taking many measurements of Merlin’s hand. 

“Tell me, Merlin,” he asked as he was fiddling with his tape measure. “What do you like to do?”

“I like to read,” Merlin supplied. “And I like quidditch. I don’t play, though. Just like to go to games and stuff. My favorite team’s the Catapults. Mum took me to a game for my birthday a few years back. I got sick on Bertie Botts’ Every Flavor Beans before the game even started.” 

“Yes, yes, very good.” Ollivander put the measuring tape back in his pocket before moving around, grabbing different wand boxes. He took the first box, placing it on the counter before Merlin. “Try this one. Applewood and dragon heartstring, twelve inches.” 

Merlin took it tentatively, holding it, though rather unsteadily, in his hand. The wand felt heavy and unbalanced. He waved it around, and for a moment nothing happened. 

Then, “ _Ow!_ ” 

He turned around, seeing Arthur rubbing the top of his head. A wand box labeled Acacia and Unicorn Hair lay on the ground next to him. Merlin snickered. Arthur glared back.

Ollivander frowned. “Perhaps not that one, then.” He took the applewood one back, replacing it with one that was a few inches shorter. “Willow and phoenix feather, eight and seven eighths inches.” 

Merlin waved the willow wand. 

Something made of glass crashed in the back of Ollivander’s shop, followed by the sound of a cat hissing. 

“Perhaps not that one either,” Merlin muttered. 

Ollivander nodded in agreement. He took back the willow wand and went to the back of his store retrieving a rather old looking box. “Oak and dragon scale, eleven and five eighths inches. This is the last wand my father made before he gave the store to me,” he explained. “It was never sold, but I’d always kept it as a memento. Now, I think you may be a good fit for it, young Emrys.” 

Merlin took the wand from its box. The grip fit well in his hand, as if it was made for him. Unlike the applewood it balanced in his hand, feeling like an extension of his arm. The magic inside him stirred, as if it had been awakened after a long sleep. Something about that wand just felt _right_. 

He waved the ancient wand, half expecting something else to fall over or smash into pieces. Instead, flowers bloomed throughout Ollivander’s small storefront. Daisies, peonies, lilacs, petunias, buttercups, and everything in between began to sprout from the walls and floors, quickly turning the building into an impromptu greenhouse. 

Morgana giggled from behind him. When he turned, he saw that he’d made flowers erupt around the crown of her head, making her look like a faerie queen of the Otherworld. 

“I think that one does it.” 

Mr. Ollivander had a bit of a smug look on his face, but if he was proud of Merlin for his feat of magic or his late father for the man’s wandmaking skills, he didn’t know. 

“Yes, sir,” Merlin nodded, finding his voice rather small and quiet. “I think this is the one.” 

~~***~~

Somehow, Morgana was _already_ mad at him again. What did he do to her this time? Was she having “girl problems” or something?

(Scratch that, he didn’t want to know).

Arthur shuddered as he waited for his sister in Tintagel’s entryway. Better to stay silent than risk getting kicked in the shins- or worse. 

Their trunks were packed and triple-checked, standing against the wall with the siblings’ shared owl, Amhar, perched inside his cage atop the pile of luggage. A frankly ridiculous number of people were busting about the manor house as their ten thirty departure time approached, gathering the last belongings of the younger Pendragons and making sure their father was set up for whatever important Ministry meeting he was having that night. 

Finally, Morgana appeared in the doorway, her face red like she’d been scrubbing it with a washcloth. (She probably had; at breakfast Arthur told her that she had what he assumed to be ketchup on her face. It was actually a zit that Morgana had been stressing over for the last week, which earned him both a stern lecture from their father and a rather painful punch to the shoulder - along with a comment of “You have something up your nose. Wait, it’s just hair.” - courtesy of Morgana). 

“Where’s Dad?” she asked, picking up one of the few books that hadn’t made it into either trunk. (It was _Hogwarts: A History_ , quite possibly the most boring book ever written). She skimmed through it idly as the two waited. 

“Dunno,” Arthur muttered, trying his best to avoid eye contact. He tapped his new wand nervously against his leg as he waited, knowing that he could possibly lose a finger if he somehow managed to cast a spell but not really caring. How could he care about something so trivial as a finger? It was September 1st, the day the Hogwarts Express would leave Platform 9¾ and he would be sorted into his house. He only hoped that he could make his father proud at school, and carry the weight of the Pendragon name so Morgana didn’t have to. 

She was always the free spirit of the family, never really taking pride or savoring the family heritage that they shared. (Had she not cared that their great grandpa Bruta was Minister for Magic for a record number of terms? Arthur didn’t think to ask at the time but the question had been nagging at his brain for a few years now.) 

Morgana made a “Hm” sound while reading, as if she found a fact worthy of sharing with her brother. “Did you know that Hogwarts has exactly one hundred and forty-two staircases?” 

“Who didn’t?” Arthur huffed, half paying attention and half wondering if he’d be able to burn the book and get away with it.

He looked up at one of the many clocks in the atrium, seeing the minute hand inch towards the _9_. Despite his father's rigid scheduling and need to be seen in public as timely and respected, the man was not the best at being on time. 

They waited for what felt like another several minutes (but was probably more like three) until Uther himself walked into the enterance hall in a well-tailored Muggle suit and tie, checking his watch as if the timepiece were about to explode. 

"Well?" he asked, looking between his two children. 

And the were off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. We've got a lot to unpack here. (Sidenote: Are any of you guys excited for the Cursed series on Netflix? I started the book yesterday and it's really interesting so far) 
> 
> The reason for the delay in posting is that this chapter was originally much longer (like 7k words), and I unfortunately had to cut it in half, so not everything that I promised last time is in this one. (SORRY!!) 
> 
> I'll start with the knights (though they're not really knights anymore) and Gwen. 
> 
> Gwen and Elyan live with their father, Tom, in Muggle Liverpool, as they are both Muggleborns. 
> 
> Gwaine lives with his mom outside of Belfast, Northern Ireland. Their owl's name, Biddy, is a nickname for the name Bridgit/Brigid, who is one of the patron saints of Ireland and has ties to Celtic mythology. Their cat, Fionn, is named after Fionn mac Cumhail, a legendary hero of Irish myth. 
> 
> Lancelot lives with his mother (Niviana - an alternate name for the Lady of the Lake), father (Ban - his father from the myths), and sister Elaine (named for his birth mother from the myths). Their owl's name (Enide) comes from Erec and Enide, which was one of the first stories Sir Lancelot appeared in. The Du Lac family splits their time between Bristol (Ban's home) and Normandy (Niviana's home), mostly because I wanted to add in the part that Lancelot was French, as he was in the myths. 
> 
> Percival also lives with his family in Liverpool, though they don't know Tom or his kids. His sister, Agresizia, is has her name taken from Percival's sister in the story of the Holy Grail, though some sources call her Dindrane. 
> 
> Mordred is also a Muggleborn, living in Muggle Cardiff with his parents, Anna and Lothus. (Both of their names are taken from the myth as well - Anna being another name for Morgause (his original mother) and Lothus being another name for Loth, his original father). 
> 
> Morgana's and Arthur's owl's name, Amhar, is taken from earlier versions of the mythos, where Arthur did in fact have sons before he died. (Though their deaths were usually premature). Amhar was one of those sons. 
> 
> As for Merlin's wand, I wanted it to be something special, and use things that were associated with both TV Merlin (dragons), and Myth Merlin (oak - after the Strife of Camlann, Merlin sealed himself in a oak tree to wait until Arthur returned), hence the oak and dragon scales. 
> 
> Can you guys see the seeds of rivalry being sewn? Merlin and Arthur hating each other is kinda fun to write ngl. 
> 
> (Also peep the Starkid reference in Gwen's POV)
> 
> Leave any and all questions in the comments! Kudos are always welcome!
> 
> Next update: Actually getting to Hogwarts, train shenanigans, and someone getting punched in the face. 
> 
> -Mags


	3. Chapter 3 - The Hogwarts Express

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin finally boards the Hogwarts Express. Arthur's father makes him mad. Someone gets punched. (You can probaby guess who).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another thank you to my amazing beta, @Ziggy_Stardusts_Tardis! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Apparating from Cornwall to King’s Cross Station in London was nothing short of nauseating, Arthur thought. His insides felt like they’d been wrung out to dry, and he’d barely been able to stop himself from throwing up in a particularly nice flower bed when they’d appeared in front of the train station. 

Luggage carts were easy enough to find, and soon both Morgana’s and Arthur’s own trunks were stacked onto the trolleys, with Amhar in his cage twittering annoyedly as they made their way through the behemoth station. (Could owls get annoyed? Did owls even have emotions? Arthur didn’t know.)

There were a number of families haphazardly dressed as they made their way through the Muggle building, some sporting odd combinations of Muggle clothing (one such man was in overalls and a large Sunday bonnet), or foregoing the practice of hiding in plain sight altogether, simply choosing to wear their regular working robes and witches’ hats, drawing the attention - and amusement - of nearby Muggles. 

Arthur suddenly felt very proud of his father for knowing the current fashion trends of Muggle Britain, and requesting that his children do the same. Uther had always been keen on teaching his children the values of high Wizarding society - something that both Arthur and Morgana abhorred, but for very different reasons. 

“Pardon me?” someone asked. The Pendragons turned, seeing a man standing with his two children just behind them. Both of them - a girl and a boy - looked to be about Arthur and Morgana’s age. 

“Yes?” Uther said, looking between the man and his family. “Can I help you with something?” 

“Do you know the way to Platform Nine and Three Quarters?"

The man had a bit of a tired look to him, though there was nothing about him to indicate that he was a wizard. A wizard would know the way to the platform, wouldn’t he? 

“Of course,” Uther smiled. He turned to the man’s children, ushering them forward along with his own. “First year at Hogwarts, then?” 

The girl nodded excitedly. The boy looked just about as confused as his father. 

“I’m Tom,” the father offered, extending a hand. Uther took it, though likely only out of courtesy. Arthur wasn’t sure how his father felt about Muggles, but he knew what kinds of people he had to put up with at the Ministry. 

“Uther.” They shook hands for a second, seemingly trying to weed their way into the other one’s head by nothing more than a handshake. Uther probably knew a spell like that, but performing it on a man like Tom would be breaking more than just a few laws. 

“It’s almost eleven,” Morgana cautioned, looking up at the great clock mounted inside the station. She gave a small smile to Tom’s daughter, who waved a small hand in return. She was very pretty, Arthur noticed. 

Wait. When did he start thinking about girls? 

When did he start thinking that girls were _pretty_? 

Of all the things that were happening in Arthur’s life that day, this particular revelation seemed to be the most upsetting. 

One of the trains honked its horn as it pulled out of the station, making the walking-bridge that the two families were standing on shake as it chugged along. The mass of people at the wall between Platforms Nine and Ten seemed to increase as they all, like Arthur, realized that it was almost time.

“Come on, then,” Uther said, motioning for his children and Tom’s family to follow him. With the subtle flick of his wand, he cast what seemed to be a Disillusionment Charm over them, letting them slip through the wall calmly and unnoticed. 

It was still a bit odd, walking straight through the wall, but Arthur his feelings were nothing compared to the feelings of shock that Tom’s kids were likely experiencing at that moment. 

They appeared on the platform as the train’s horn blew in warning, letting children know to get on the train or risk not getting to school at all. Many students started to run towards the old train, climbing into the cars and offering one last wave to their parents before disappearing inside the locomotive to find their friends and make new ones. 

Morgana and Arthur, along with Tom’s children - Arthur thought he should introduce himself to them at some point - made their way to the train, though Uther held his son back at the last second, grabbing his arm. 

“A word, Arthur?” 

Arthur nodded, giving his trunk and Amhar’s cage to Morgana to make sure it got on board. 

“I know that you must be feeling very excited right now,” Uther started, looking down at his son. “But I must caution you to uphold a particular standard of behavior while you are at school. Anything you do has the potential to be reflected negatively both on you and on me as well, as your father. As the oldest, it naturally falls to you to uphold the dignity of the noble family of Pendragon, and I’m sorry to say that I can only expect the best from you, Arthur. I hope you understand that” 

Arthur nodded again in understanding, his father’s words ringing in his head as he gave him one last goodbye before climbing onto the train. 

_I can only expect the best from you, Arthur._

~~***~~

Merlin was so excited, he thought he might burst. All around him students and their families were swarming the platform. He tried to look around for any signs of Gwen or Morgana, the two friends he’d made in Diagon Alley, but his view was obstructed by a particularly large redheaded family as they said their goodbyes and made their way onto the train. 

Hunith was at his side as he found a nice older student to help him get his trunk and Pwyll’s cage onto the train, where he would soon need to find a compartment for the ride. She gave him a kiss on the forehead before letting him loose, whispering to him before he went. 

“I love you, _annwyl_.” 

“I love you too, Mum.” Merlin gave her one last hug before climbing onto the train and getting his luggage back from the nice girl with bushy hair and a Prefect’s badge. She went to go join one of her friends - one of the boys of the red-haired family from the platform - leaving Merlin alone in the small hallway between compartments. 

He started walking down the hall, looking into the small rooms for anywhere to sit. The train lurched under him as it started to pull out of the station, making Merlin stumble outside a compartment filled with Fifth Year (Sixth Year?) girls. 

He could feel the train’s wheels moving under him as they pulled out of the station, making his stomach churn as he struggled to stay upright. Just then, he heard a grunt from the other end of the corridor, where someone had just come out of a compartment. 

Looking up, Merlin saw that it was none other than Arthur Pendragon, that prat who’d been glaring at him in Ollivander’s a week ago. 

Arthur didn’t seem to notice Merlin at first, though. He was too busy shooting looks back at the compartment he’d apparently just been kicked out of, no doubt plotting his dungbomb-filled revenge on whoever was inside. 

Arthur looked up at him as he was trying to make his escape unnoticed. There was fire in his eyes as well, a kind of anger that wouldn’t go away so easily. He looked offended by Merlin’s mere presence in the train car, if that was actually possible. 

He made a face somewhere between annoyance and disgust as Merlin approached him, intending to ask him where Morgana had gone. 

“Hey, um, d’you know where Morgana is? ‘Cause I, uh-” 

In hindsight, Merlin probably should have expected the punch. 

The force of the blow sent him tripping over his and Arthur’s luggage, knocking over Pwyll’s and Arthur’s owl’s cages. The tawny owl hooted as its cage fell over backwards, while Pwyll simply meowed and clawed at the door to his crate. 

Merlin’s magic reacted instinctively to the attack, sending Arthur flying. He landed on the floor with an “oof.” Merlin only hoped he hadn’t seen his eyes change color - he was already having a hard enough time keeping it a secret. 

The combined sounds of both boys hitting the ground and the animals being thrown around in their cages seemed to alert the surrounding compartments as well, as the two boys were soon met with a number of chattering students, crowding around the incident like it was the most exciting thing that had ever happened on the Hogwarts Express. 

_“Arthur!”_

Morgana pushed through the crowd, followed close behind by Gwen and Elyan. ( _When did they meet each other?_ Merlin thought, somehow not really bothered by his current situation.) 

“What did you do, you idiot?” 

Arthur said nothing, instead staring at Merlin and Morgana, glare full of contempt. 

“Hold it, hold it!” Another Prefect made their way through the crowd, this one already in his school robes. The green on his uniform marked him as a Slytherin, and the combined factors of his blond hair and grey eyes made him look like a paler, color-drained version of Arthur. 

“What happened?” The Prefect looked between Merlin and Arthur, a serious expression on his face. Merlin wondered if he could get detention before they’d even been sorted. 

“Arthur attacked him.” Morgana’s voice rang out among the whispers of the bystanders. 

“Is this true?” 

Merlin nodded, though Arthur guffawed from his place at the other end of the train car. “ _He_ attacked _me_!” 

“Did _not_!” 

The Perfect sighed, looking between the pair of them. “Detentions, both of you.” He reached into the folds of his robes, grabbing a little pink pad and a spare pen. After asking them for their names, he handed a slip to both Merlin and Arthur, each detailing the offence they committed and the punishment for said offense. 

He could hear Arthur grumble as another First Year helped him up, regarding the small detention slip like it was an affront to his very existence. 

Before Merlin realized, Morgana and Gwen were helping him up, grabbing his things as they headed towards the compartment that Arthur had come out of mere minutes ago. The two pairs of siblings - Morgana and Arthur; Gwen and Elyan - made faces at each other as the two boys went their separate ways from their sisters. 

Merlin didn’t realize the implications of their small semi-fight until Arthur brushed by him as the crowd began to disperse, whispering a threat so only Merlin could hear. 

_“Stay away from my sister.”_

  
~~***~~

Who did Merlin Emrys think he was, anyway? 

Why did he get all of the doting and fawning students to ask if he was okay while all Arthur got was a detention and a particularly evil glare from his sister? It just wasn’t fair. 

These same thoughts kept running through Arthur’s head as Leon and Elyan led him down the train car to where Kay had apparently found seats. They kept steering his head forward like they were some sort of security force, which only made Arthur more annoyed. (His father had had security wizards around him and Morgana for a few months when they were eight because of some legal crap that he’d been stuck in - worst months of Arthur’s life.)

“What happened to you?” Kay asked as he slumped into the window seat. His friend’s face and the faces of three others stared back at him, with various levels of confusion on their faces. 

“Arthur here got into a fight with Merlin Emrys.” Leon stated, half holding back a laugh. 

“Who?” one of the strangers asked. He was tall and stocky, like he chopped wood with his bare hands for a living. 

“Some pasty Welsh kid,” Leon shrugged. “He seems pretty friendly with Arthur’s sister, though.” 

“Shut up, Leon,” Arthur groaned, hitting his head against the wall as he leaned back. He looked back up as more people laughed at him. “Who are you people anyway?” 

The one who’d asked about Merlin raised a hand. “I’m Percival.” 

Another, who was sitting in a corner and trying to balance an owl’s cage upside down, also raised his hand. “Gwaine.” 

The final stranger gave a short wave instead, looking up from his book. “Lancelot.” 

Arthur gave a short wave back, not really one for introductions. 

“What’re you reading?” he asked Lancelot, purely out of boredom. 

Lancelot looked guiltily between his book and Arthur and then broke out laughing, letting it drop to the floor. Arthur looked indignantly at the other boy before reaching down and taking the book. 

Of course. It was _The Sword in the Stone_. Arthur had a decent-sized pile of copies at home, many of which were joke gifts from Kay and Morgana. 

He grimaced, yet again, and gave the book back to a now-mostly calm Lancelot. 

“You’d be surprised the amount of time people’ve given me that book as a joke.” 

“Really?” Gwaine said through his own laughing fit, just having seen the title.

“Yep. If King Arthur did actually exist, I’d like to have a few strong words with him.” 

“Good thing he’s long-dead, mate,” Leon said, taking a pack of Exploding Snap out of his bag. “Now, who wants to play?” 

It felt good to play cards for a while, Arthur thought. To just forget his thoughts and worries and just see how many pairs he could find before they exploded. He’d never had enough players for a proper game like this when he was home, and it felt surprisingly good to be surrounded by so many people. (Even if Gwaine was trying - and failing - to conceal how bad he was at a) the game and b) cheating at the game.) 

“Manticores don’t match with Cyclopes!” he yelled as Gwaine tried to pick up the cards too fast for anyone to notice. The cards promptly exploded in Gwaine’s face. 

“You’re all no fun!” Gwaine pouted, making sure his eyebrows weren’t singed. 

The next round started, and then the one after that, and the one after that. Time seemed to fly by like it was fleeing from Death itself. Before long, they were changing into their uniforms for the first time. 

The robes and the school clothes beneath were easy enough for Arthur to put on, though some of his mates - Arthur didn’t even know if they could be called his mates yet - were having trouble with certain components.

“This damn tie is trying to strangle me!” Kay cried after five or so attempts to copy the knot that Arthur had tied his own with. “How’re you so good at it?”

“Too many fancy Ministry parties,” Arthur shrugged. “C’mere.” 

Kay let out an angry sigh and begrudgingly let Arthur help him. Arthur promised not to mention the incident to anyone in the future. 

“Merlin’s beard, Gwaine!” 

Was it bad that his first thought was, _But Emrys doesn’t have a beard?_

Arthur and Kay made their way back to their compartment to find Gwaine sitting in the middle of the floor, sans one eyebrow, holding not one, not two, but _three_ decks of Exploding Snap in his hands. 

“Oops?” was all he said. 

Everyone else burst out laughing. 

Yeah, Arthur was pretty sure they were his mates now. 

  
~~***~~

A few hours on the train, and Merlin was practically bouncing off the walls. The truth of what was happening had finally sunken in, and he felt like he was on top of the world. He was _there_ , on the _train_ , going to _Hogwarts_. 

Morgana and Gwen exchanged eyerolls as he bounced his leg nervously and kept trying to start conversations. The two girls were too busy talking to each other, however, Morgana showing Gwen the copy of _Witch Weekly_ she’d managed to sneak into her room over the summer, and Gwen showing Morgana her collections of Muggle books in return. Right now they were talking about one with talking lions and a particularly large wardrobe. (Before that it’d been one about a short man called a “hobbit” and a magical ring that needed to be destroyed, but neither narratives seemed to pique Merlin’s interest.)

A short rap on the compartment door seemed to catch all three occupant’s attention, however, as Merlin looked up to see two people standing on the other side of the door. 

Will’s smiling face bloomed back at him, though he was accompanied by a stranger. He slid the door open with enthusiasm, making it thud as it hid the end of the door frame. 

“Merlin!” he said happily, giving his best friend a rather large hug for the small train compartment. 

“Will!” Merlin cried in return, standing up and receiving the hug in full force. He looked to Gwen and Morgana after they’d broken apart, seeing the girls’ confused faces. “This is Will,” he said simply. 

“I’m Gwen!” Gwen greeted happily, offering a hand. Will shook it. 

“Morgana,” Morgana said, not offering a hand. 

All three of them then looked at Will expectantly, sneaking glances between him and the boy who was still standing at the door. 

Will gave them a sort of quizzical look before realizing what they meant, and beckoned his new friend into the room. “This is Mordred.” 

Mordred gave a small wave. He looked very nervous, like he was about to explode at any second. “Hi.” He looked to Gwen, who was still holding a couple of her Muggle books. “Is that _Narnia_?” 

Gwen nodded. “Yep. _The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe._ ” 

“I never really liked those books,” Mordred shrugged, drawing a rather thin book out of his own bag. It was covered in so many colors that it hurt Merlin’s eyes at first. “D’you like _X-Men_?” 

“Elyan does.” 

“Who’s Elyan?” 

“My brother.” 

Mordred nodded once in understanding, forcing Morgana out of the way so he and Gwen could talk more about whatever those Muggle books were called. (Cronics? Merlin wasn’t sure.) Will took his seat on the other side of Mordred, picking up one of Gwen’s books with interest. 

Morgana sighed, taking her own book and sitting on Merlin’s side of the compartment. 

Merlin gave her a once-over, wondering how she could possibly be related to a prat like Arthur. 

“I take after our father,” Morgana told him, as if she’d been reading his mind. “Arthur looks more like our mum.” 

Merlin nodded solemnly. “My mum always says I look like my father, but she never tells me anything else about him.” 

“Did he die?” 

“Dunno. I think so. She kept his last name, so I don’t think they got a divorce.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Thanks.” Merlin turned to the window, watching the fields of England roll past as they made their way north. 

“Arthur’s not that much of a prat, you know.” 

“What?” he turned his head, once again staring at Morgana. Everyone else was lost in their own conversations. 

“Our dad said something to him before we got on the train, made him really mad. He snapped at Gwen a couple of times before I kicked him out. I think he’s just being really bad today in particular.” 

“Yeah,” Merlin huffed, not meeting her eyes. “That really makes me feel better.” 

“You didn’t actually hit him, did you?”

“No!” 

“Then how was he on the ground when we got out there?” Morgana’s green eyes seemed to blaze through his head, looking for the truth. 

“I… I don't know. It just sort of… happened.” 

“You’re a tricky one, Merlin. I’ll give you that,” she laughed, skimming through her book idly. 

“Uh, thanks?”

Another knock sounded at the compartment’s door. This time, it was a Prefect. She looked sunny and happy in her Hufflepuff robes, and seemed to be somewhat enjoying making rounds. Merlin thought she looked like the physical manifestation of Hufflepuff house. “You should all be changing into your robes soon. We’re just about halfway there.” 

She gave a small smile before checking something off on her clipboard and continuing to the next compartment over. 

“Change?” Mordred squeaked, in what amounted to a very embarrassing voice crack. 

“S’there a loo or something anywhere?” Gwen asked, peeking out into the hall. 

“Down at the end,” Will said. “Though it might be just the boys’.” 

“I’ll take my chances.” Gwen reached up to where her trunk was stored in the overhead, taking out a pair of robes and school uniform. Morgana followed suit, catching up to Gwen as they went to find a bathroom. 

“Do we have to wear the robes?” Mordred asked. 

Merlin and Will both turned to him, a confused look in their eyes. 

“It’s just… they look stupid, don’t they?” 

“Yeah,” Will nodded. “But they’re warm.” 

“True,” Merlin agreed. He stared off into space for a second, thinking about what Mordred said. “Now that you think of it, they do look pretty stupid.” 

“I’ll say,” Will laughed, putting an arm around Merlin. “My mum showed me pictures of my da when he first went to Hogwarts…” he trailed off as he began laughing, unable to finish the story. “He looked like a total idiot!” 

“Runs in the family, does it?”

“Shut up, Merlin.” 

Merlin could see Mordred start to come out of his shell more as they spent more time together on the train. He was fascinated by the Wizarding World, though a bit confused by how casual Merlin and Will were about it. Mordred had a sort of love of magic, Merlin thought as the boys made their ways to the loos to change, that you didn’t see unless the curtain was opened for you, if you didn’t know what you were before. It felt refreshing, somehow, to have a friend that was constantly amazed with everything. 

It was much darker when the train finally started to slow down. Merlin didn’t notice until they’d made a complete stop - the force of the stop woke up Pwyll and almost made the tabby tear through Merlin’s new uniform pants. 

The friends - for that’s what they were now, Merlin was sure of it - looked around at each other as students began to walk by with their trunks and owl cages in hand. 

They had made it to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back! 
> 
> I know it's been a while, but here's more Egg of Aithusa! Like I said last chapter, this is was originally part of chapter 2, but became its own one because of how long it got. 
> 
> I'm going on a tentative vacation for a couple of weeks in August (depending on whether or not my sister is sick after working at a summer camp), so there may not be another chapter for about a month or so. 
> 
> Leave any and all questions in the comments!
> 
> -Mags


	4. Chapter 4 - Four Houses, Each Alike In Diginity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin contemplates things while in a boat. Arthur gets splashed with water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Four houses, each alike in dignity,  
> In the highlands of Scotland, we lay our scene  
> From ancient grudges break to uncertianty,  
> For things are not always as they seem." 
> 
> \- Part of the Prologue from Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet, rewritten by me at 2am because I couldn't sleep and I refused to forget this idea in the morning

They arrived in a quaint Scottish village. Nothing about it screamed “HOGWARTS,” but Merlin somehow knew that this was the right place to be. Older students began loading their things off the train, walking down a path to where seemingly horseless carriages were waiting. 

For the First Years, though, a large man (and by _large_ , Merlin really meant _probably related to a giant_ ) was waiting with a lantern. “First Years!” he called out, swinging it around and almost hitting a few Ravenclaws in the head. “First Years with me!” 

Merlin, Morgana, Mordred, Gwen, and Will followed the sound of his voice, making their way through the somewhat-overwhelming station until they arrived at what appeared to be a dock. A number of other unsorted students were standing near him, both a bit afraid of the rather large man but intrigued at the same time. 

Looking through the crowd, Merlin saw Arthur Pendragon and Elyan, as well as a number of other students that he didn’t recognise. 

“Is everyone here?” the giant man called out, seeing the small crowd forming. No one responded. “Alrigh’ I guess I’ll just start anyway.” The man surveyed the gathering of First Years one more time before going on. “M’name’s Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and gamekeeper here at Hogwarts. Righ’ now, we’re all gonna climb into these boats, then cross the lake, okay? After tha’, you’ll all be sorted into your houses and ye can have a bite to ea’ at the Welcoming Feast, got it?” 

Hagrid surveyed the small crowd of students again. If anyone did have any questions, they were probably too scared to ask them. 

One boy raised his hand apprehensively. “Is it true there’s a giant squid in the lake?” 

Hagrid laughed. “Yes! And I can take ye to meet ‘im too if ye like!” 

The boy paled, taking a step away from the gamekeeper. Will snickered from next to Merlin. 

“Is there actually a squid?” he asked. 

“I hope not,” Merlin replied. 

“Four to a boat, don’ be scared!” Hagrid’s voice boomed over the rising conversations of the First Years as he began organizing the students into small groups for the boats. 

A group ahead of Merlin and his friends shuffled forward. Will was pushed apart from him as another throng of kids moved to the boats. He could vaguely see Will’s head of light brown hair shuffle through the crowd, but was disheartened to find that he’d already been loaded into a boat with three others, none of whom Merlin knew. 

Finally, Merlin ended up in his own boat, along with Gwen, Morgana, and Mordred. 

“There isn’t actually a giant squid, is there?” Mordred asked as he climbed into the boat. He looked rather frightened. “Because no one told me anything abou-”

“If there is, it doesn’t eat people,” Morgana cut him off. She was staring daggers over at her brother, who seemed to still be in the fowl mood he was in when he punched Merlin hours ago. His mood seemed to spur the moods of the other boys around him, most of whom were chattering excitedly about who-knows-what. (One of his boat-mates seemed very intent on proving the existence of the squid - so much so that another had to keep ahold of his robes so he didn’t fall in.) 

Pendragon seemed to catch his eye as the boats departed of their own accord, setting off onto the blackness of the lake. The look in his eyes was one of a repressed anger; it had been building for hours since their encounter, and Merlin could tell that he was itching for revenge. 

Cool night air rushed at Merlin’s face as the boat glided effortlessly over the lake, with nothing to guide them but a small lantern. Before he knew it, he was shivering. (He hoped all nights weren’t like this - he hated the cold with a burning passion.) 

“Two knuts says that pasty kid over there falls in before we reach shore.” Morgana’s voice was in his ear. When he turned, he saw her smiling evily and looking towards her brother’s boat yet again. 

Merlin grinned mischievously. “Five says your brother pushes him.” 

“Deal.” 

They spent the next few minutes placing bets on the students in the surrounding boats. Mordred was eager to join in as well, though he was slightly at a disadvantage with his amount of bettable money. It was evident, though, that he was good at it. Mordred rightly predicted that the girl with the pigtails three boats over would drop her Crispin Cronk Chocolate Frog Card (the identity of which he had also guessed correctly) into the water and that Gwen and Elyan would have an entire conversation with nothing more than looks and body language. 

Most of the journey across the lake passed without Merlin noticing. He was with his friends, he was happy, and he was at Hogwarts. What more could he need?

Then, _splash!_

Merlin found himself drenched as he turned around, seeing Will leaning over the side of his own boat, hand in the water. A mischievous grin was printed on his face.

“You’re on!” Merlin told him, yelling over the chatter of the other First Years. 

Will responded by throwing another splash at Merlin, which not only got him even more soaked, but managed to strike Morgana as well. 

Together, they sent a rebuttal splash back at Will, whose boat was currently drifting ahead of theirs. The force of the water sent it over a few feet, towards one filled with four girls. Two of the girls shrieked as Will’s boat neared their own, though a small push by one of the not screaming ones, a girl with brown hair and inquisitive eyes, was able to save them from collision by pushing off of Will’s boat just in time. 

A good part of the journey pressed on in this matter, with Merlin and Morgana battling Will from their boats while others around them did their best not to be involved. 

On the outside, it looked like nothing more than a childish prank or a game between friends, but Merlin was glad for the distraction the splashing provided as they edged ever-closer to the towering castle of Hogwarts. 

His anxieties had been churning within him from the moment he’d stepped on the train, filling his head with worries about himself and the school that he’d probably wondered a thousand times before, but they never felt as real or as frightening as they did in that moment. What if the letter was a mistake? Was there some other Merlin Emrys who really was supposed to go to Hogwarts, and he was just a fraud? What if he wasn’t sorted into any house? Would they kick him out and make him live like a Muggle? 

The splashing game was perhaps the only thing that was stopping Merlin from vomiting into the lake. 

The what-if’s were plaguing Merlin’s head non-stop as the sight of the dock neared. He could hear another splash in the distance as Will gave one final shove to the water, but it didn’t register until he was almost completely soaked. 

Their game had not gone unnoticed by bystanders, though, and soon his head was filled with the cheers and taunts of others as Will claimed victory. 

But there was one voice he could hear above the rest. One arrogant, angry, prat-like voice that somehow managed to get to him like the others couldn’t. 

“I’m calling it now, Emrys’s gonna go cry to Dumbledore and Preston’ll get in trouble for splashing him.” Pendragon. Of course. 

Merlin took a deep breath. He could feel his magic at the edge of his senses. Always there, always waiting. Though he couldn’t yet control it, he knew what it felt like burning up inside him and when it was about to go off. 

He reached down into the water, cupping his hand like he was taking a drink. Carefully, he twisted his wrist so his palm circled towards and then away from him. His magic surged within him as he threw his arm out to the side, moving with it a massive amount of water. 

Merlin couldn’t see the wave he’d created, only the last remnants of his golden eyes as his magic reflected in the murky blackness of the lake. 

The sounds of splashes and screams followed, but he didn’t look at first. When he did, there was only one person, only one face he could register - Arthur Pendragon. 

That prat. Again. Every single time. 

The universe must really hate him, Merlin concluded. 

Laughter now rang out among the students as Pendragon and his friends sputtered and coughed, catching the attention of Hagrid in his own boat. 

“Alrigh’ back there, ev’ryone? We’re almos’ there now.” 

Relief poured through Merlin at Hagrid’s words. Was it true? Were they finally there? 

The immense silhouette of the castle stood up against the sky, which was covered in more stars than Merlin had ever seen before. Candles and lanterns flickered in the windows, glowing yellow and gold as the small flames danced on their wicks. It was more spellbinding than he’d dreamt it to be. 

He could almost imagine how the castle was in medieval times - knights walking about, capes swaying in the breeze, ladies and their maids strolling through the courtyards, the king holding court in the great hall, advisors and ministers gathered around; Merlin felt connected to that vision, that idea of what once was. 

He could also imagine a great dragon flying about, leaving destruction behind as he rained fire down from on high. 

But that was preposterous, he told himself. Dragon keepers wouldn’t be that careless. 

Hogwarts Castle loomed higher as the boats came ever closer, and Merlin thought the building might just swallow him whole. He could see that Morgana and Gwen were both equally as enamored with the castle was he was. 

“It’s- it’s a castle!” Gwen exclaimed, nearly capsizing them in an attempt to get closer. She gaped at the building with wide eyes, curly hair tangling behind her as the wind hit her face. 

“I never thought it would be so big,” Morgana whispered, tilting her head slightly to take it all in. 

Merlin simply looked between his friends and nodded. “I know.” 

Hogwarts Castle grew larger in front of them, until they could see a small pier at the base of the hill upon which it sat. Candles and lanterns burned inside the windows, the eerie flicker of flames bringing a touch of warmth to Merlin, who was still stuck on the cold lake. 

It wasn’t long before they reached the docks, boats coming to a stop as students did their best to climb up onto dry land. 

Merlin felt himself standing uneasily for a second, his body having grown accustomed to the movement of the water. When he regained his land-legs, he rushed to join Gwen and Morgana, who were following a crowd of other First Years in moving towards a staircase that led into the castle. 

“What d’you think we’ll have to do to get sorted?” Will asked him, making him jump slightly in surprise as they began to climb the stairs. 

“Dunno.” Merlin shrugged. “Maybe we have to fight a dragon?” 

“Why on Earth would we have to fight a dragon?” There was Morgana. He’d thought he’d lost her in the crowd, but no. 

“Wizards have _dragons?”_ Gwen wasn’t far behind either. 

Will looked back at her, confused. “Muggles don’t?” 

Someone cleared their throat behind them. Turning around, Merlin saw a stern-looking woman with slightly greying hair and a large witch’s hat adorning her head. She held a large scroll of paper in her hand, along with her wand. 

“Good evening, students,” she said, speaking with a Scottish accent. The crowd became quiet in an instant. “I would like to personally welcome you all to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. My name is Professor McGonagall, and I am the Deputy Headmistress here at Hogwarts. In a moment, you will be sorted into your houses.

“The four houses are: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Your house shall be your family while you’re here at Hogwarts, working together to earn points and compete in the house cup. Points are given for good behavior, and taken away for bad behavior. At the end of the year, points are tallied and the house cup is given to the house with the most points, so do not let your housemates down. The sorting ceremony will begin shortly.”

Something akin to nausea struck Merlin then. What if he was in a house all by himself? What if he failed whatever test they had and kicked him out? What if he actually had to fight a dragon?

“You owe me five knuts, by the way.” Morgana had moved next to him as they started walking up the staircase, presumably towards the Great Hall. 

“And you owe me two.” Merlin replied. “So really, I owe you three knuts.” 

“Glad to know you can do basic maths.” 

“And so can you! But you still owe me two knuts.” 

“I can make Arthur push that kid into the lake instead,” Morgana suggested. 

“How do you know he’s not gonna push _me_ into the lake?” 

She snorted. “That would be pretty funny too.” 

_“Morgana!”_

She waved her hand dismissively. “Just joking. I’d make sure he’d never hear the end of it if he pushed you into the lake.” 

“Cheers.” Merlin offered a hand out, and she met it in the air with a high-five. 

The First Years continued through the castle, arriving at what must’ve been the Great Hall. The beams arched higher there, and the collective rumble of the entirety of Hogwarts’ returning students could be heard through the walls. 

Coming into the Great Hall, Merlin first thought the stars were falling down to earth. 

Upon further inspection, though, he realized that the floating lights weren’t stars at all, but candles. 

But there were stars, too. Up above the candles, it looked as if the Great Hall had no ceiling at all. Instead, the ceiling had been enchanted to show the night sky outside, which was currently filled with more stars than Merlin had ever seen. 

The chattering of the older students around them grew as McGonagall led them up through the center of the hall, just before the table where the teachers were seated. 

Maybe there weren’t any dragons in the sorting ceremony at all. 

Instead of a dragon or test, there was an old hat, sitting on top of a three-pronged stool. 

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, and the students sitting around them became silent. They were clearly all waiting for something to happen. But what? 

Then, the hat came to life. 

It coughed out a few… hairballs? And began to, remarkably, sing. 

_"Welcome, O children, to this place of magicks ancient,_

_Founded years and years and years ago to Wizardkind’s amazement,_

_Here you shall find the home your seek,_

_So now listen closely to these words I shall speak._

_You might find yourself in Ravenclaw, for those of intelligent mind,_

_Or in fair Hufflepuff, you could reside, if you are indeed so kind,_

_Maybe with the noble Gryffindor you’ll find your true friends and home,_

_Or even in great Slytherin, you’ll find yourself, and your ambitions shall be known._

_But who can say? But who can tell? For I am just a hat!_

_Just a hat, indeed I am, but at the same time, so much more than that."_

When it was done, the whole student body clapped. Merlin found joining in the applause too, though he was too dumbfounded by the fact that the hat was _singing_ to register what his hands were doing. 

Professor McGonagall stepped up next to the hat, and the noise died down again. She took the scroll that she was holding before and began to unfurl it, stopping when she saw the first line that was written on it. 

“When I call your name, come forward and be sorted,” she told the First Years. “Now, Brasher, George.” 

The boy that had asked Hagrid about the giant squid came forward. He looked nervous, though not as nervous as Merlin felt. The hat was placed on George’s head, fabric face contorting as it made its decision. 

_“Ravenclaw!”_ the hat bellowed, and the table second from Merlin’s left erupted in applause. George smiled, getting down from the stool and going to join the Ravenclaw table. 

“Campbell, Eira.” 

A girl with two blonde braids and a sneaky smile pushed past Merlin, making her way through the crowd of First Years and up to the Sorting Hat. 

The hat took much less time with its decision. _“Slytherin!”_

This time it was the table between the Ravenclaw table and the wall that began to clap. Eira sat down at the end, near an older girl who she bore a remarkable resemblance to. 

“Ceinfar, Kay.” 

One of Pendragon’s friends made his way to the stool, sitting down with no hint of worry in his demeanor. 

The hat had barely even touched his head when it bellowed, _“Gryffindor!”_

Gryffindors - seated at the table second from Merlin’s right - whooped and bellowed as Ceinfar joined them. 

The next few sortings continued on in the same manner, and the students began to settle into a rhythm as their new housemates were chosen. Silence would fall on all of them, followed by the hat’s decision and scores of cheers from one of the houses. 

The hat had just sorted its latest student - Percival Eliffer, the burly one who’d stopped another one of Pendragon’s friends from falling into the lake, had gone to Gryffindor - when Merlin’s name was called. 

“Emrys, Merlin.” 

He could hear the whispers and the snickers as he made his way forward. (“Who on earth would name their kid _Merlin?”_ “Sod off,” he would’ve liked to respond.) McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head. 

_Loyal, yes. Determined, yes. You are indeed an enigma, Mr. Emrys._

What was going on? 

_Who are you?_ he thought, not expecting a response. 

_I’m the hat, of course! Now, pipe down and let me sort you. Cunning, yes. You remind me of your father, dear boy._

Merlin almost flinched. _My father? What do you-_

_Oh, what’s this? You don’t think you’re worthy of being here at Hogwarts? Well, Mr. Emrys, I think I have just the way for you to prove your prowess. Better be-_

_“Slytherin!”_ the hat shouted. 

  
~~***~~

Arthur scowled as he watched Emrys clamber down off the stool and towards the Slytherin table. Of course he would be Slytherin, the git. 

It was too late to still be mad, though, as the next name called was…

“Gales, Leon.” 

Leon gave Arthur a look as he made his way up, sticking the hat on his head with some force. His red hair provided quite the contrast to the hat’s muddled and aged brown. 

_“Gryffindor!”_ it proclaimed, and Leon let out a sigh of relief as he went to go join Lancelot, Kay, and Percival at the Gryffindor table. 

“Ganis, Bors,” Professor McGonagall read, and a somewhat portly student stepped forward. 

Arthur didn’t pay much attention to the next few sortings. They were on _G_ , his name wouldn’t get picked for a while. Instead, he began to shuffle through the crowd of yet unsorted First Years, looking for Morgana. 

He found her standing next to Elyan’s sister - Gwen, if he remembered correctly - whispering quietly between the hat’s shouts. 

_“Morgana!”_ he stage-whispered, though there was no doubt in his mind that she could hear him. 

She rolled her eyes quite obviously as she turned towards him. _“What do you want, Arthur?”_

_“I’m bored.”_ He shrugged. _“All my friends have been sorted.”_

_“Elyan hasn’t. Go bother him.”_

_“‘Gana-”_

_“Go away, Arthur.”_

He resisted the urge to stamp on his sister’s foot as she turned back to Gwen. 

_“Ravenclaw!”_ the hat proclaimed, and a girl with brown hair and inquisitive eyes made her way to the Ravenclaw table, taking a seat next to George Brasher. 

“Gorre, Maleagant.” 

A boy with black hair and hazel eyes was next. The Sorting Hat had barely touched his head when the decision was made. 

_“Slytherin!”_

_Figures,_ Arthur thought. 

“Hoel, Bangraine.” 

Another Slytherin. And another after her. Was his class really so evil as to all get sorted into Slytherin? Arthur could feel his dislike for the serpentine house growing with every passing minute. 

“Kentigern, Mordred.” 

A boy with curly brown hair and green eyes waved at Morgana as he stepped up to the stool. Morgana waved back. When the Sorting Hat was placed on Kentigern’s head it looked like it was deep in thought. The hat seemed to be going back and forth between two options. 

Arthur started counting at one point, but lost track somewhere after seventy-five seconds. 

Finally, the hat shouted, _“Slytherin!”_

Kentigern looked slightly relieved as he went to join Emrys at the table. Arthur scowled again. 

“Landok, Safir,” Professor McGonagall announced, and another student came forward. 

Arthur looked back to Morgana, who was now switching between looking over at the Slytherin table and talking with Gwen. She must’ve spotted him as he came closer, because she stepped towards him and stomped on his foot. 

“Why’d you do that?” he asked, trying to whisper as Landok went to go sit at the Ravenclaw table. 

“You’re a prat, that’s why,” Morgana responded, giving no further explanation. 

Arthur wanted to stomp on her own foot, but decided against it. He was already facing one detention. “Why d’you keep looking over at the Slytherin table, then?” 

“‘Cause Merlin and Mordred are my mates, and I want to see how they’re getting on.” 

“You’re a horrible liar, Morgana.” 

“No, _you_ are.” 

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat as more students began talking throughout the hall. When all were quiet - including Arthur and Morgana - she read out the next name. 

“Leodegrance, Guinevere.” 

Gwen sent them a small smile as she climbed up the dais to the stool. The hat was placed precariously on top of her head, like it would fall off at any second. She tried to stay optimistic, smiling at the crowd of students as the hat deliberated. At one point her smile faltered, but Arthur couldn’t think of a discernable reason why. 

_“Hufflepuff!”_ the hat proclaimed, and Gwen went to sit next to another First Year girl who’d been sorted before her. (What was her name? Feyre? Frieda? Arthur couldn’t remember.) 

“Leodegrance, Elyan,” was called next. Arthur held his breath as his last friend, save Gwaine, was sorted. 

Elyan’s sorting took considerably less time than Gwen’s, though it still felt like a lifetime had passed for Arthur when the hat shouted, _“Gryffindor!”_

He found himself applauding quietly along with the Gryffindor table as Elyan took a seat next to Kay, though he was slightly envious that he wasn’t sitting there with them. For the first time, Arthur found a knot forming in his stomach at the prospect of being sorted. 

All his life, he’d assumed he would be a Gryffindor, like his father. Why wouldn’t he? He was brave, he was courageous, and it was up to him to carry on the Pendragon family legacy. 

The Pendragons had been Gryffindors for generations, going all the way back to one of his first ancestors to attend Hogwarts, Amr Pendragon. It just made sense that was where he would be sorted, and the uneasiness that came to him now made Arthur wonder if years of hoping and planning had all been for nothing. 

“Pearson, Kara.” 

Were they on _P_ already? That was a lot faster than Arthur had expected. The knot in his stomach turned to butterflies as Pearson went to Slytherin. 

“Pendragon, Arthur.” 

He gulped, looking back at Morgana before climbing the small steps to the stool. The Sorting Hat felt strange as it was placed on his head. There was some… thing at the back of his mind, like it was trying to poke its way through Arthur’s thoughts. 

_Brave, yes. Courageous? Ha! And quite a bit of nerve in there, too. I could make this very easy for you, Mr. Pendragon._

_Are… are you the Sorting Hat?_ Arthur thought. 

_Indeed I am, my boy._

_What’re you doing?_

_Sorting you, of course. Now, I think I’ve got it. You’ll do great things in-_

_“Gryffindor!”_ the hat shouted. 

A wave of relief washed over Arthur. He could feel his feet moving faster than his head as he came to sit next to Percival at the Gryffindor table. The knot in his stomach had unraveled itself, the butterflies had flown away. What had he been so worried about? 

“Pendragon, Morgana.” 

Oh yeah, that. He’d completely forgotten that his sister was getting sorted as well. But he didn’t have to worry, because they shared so many of the same qualities that made them both Gryffindors: determination, bravery, a metric ton of nerve between them. There was no way this could go wrong. 

Then, the hat shouted the word that Arthur perhaps hated the most he’d ever hated something in his entire life. 

_“Slytherin!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wiggles eyebrows* how about that sorting ceremony, huh? 
> 
> I would just like to say that all names that were mentioned during this story were chosen purposefully, and are a reference either to the show or the original mythology if you look close enough. 
> 
> Unfortunately, since it's September, school is starting up again for me, which means I probably won't get to update as often as I'd like. (My school's online until October, so we'll see how it goes.)
> 
> (Gwaine's totally the one who almost fell into the lake and was held back by Percival, btw). 
> 
> Wear a mask and stay safe!  
> -Mags

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go!
> 
> This is the main reason I've been so inactive lately: a whole new HP crossover WIP! 
> 
> Updates will probably be pretty staggered, but I'm getting off of school for the year soon, so fingers crossed. 
> 
> If anyone's curious: Merlin and Will live in the fictional Welsh town of St. Carantoc. Arthur and Morgana live in a disguised magical mansion on the property of Caer Tintagel in Cornwall, which is supposed to be on the location of the real Caer Tintagel in Cornwall, which is supposedly where King Arthur was conceived. 
> 
> Merlin's cat, Pwyll, is named for a mythological Welsh king who married Rhiannon. Archimedes is named for Merlin's owl from The Sword and the Stone movie by Disney. 
> 
> Next update: Getting to Hogwarts, introductions to more characters, and a healthy dose of rivalry. 
> 
> -Mags


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